


Matsuhana Week 2019

by h_lovely



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, inuendos, matsuhana week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_lovely/pseuds/h_lovely
Summary: Day 1:hanamaki's birthday//foodDay 3:weather//trying new things





	1. hanamaki's birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with the few Matsuhana drabbles I managed to pump out for this week. It's honestly not going to be much, but I wanted to post the days I have written, just the same! (Also--Happy Birthday, Hanamaki Takahiro, you creampuff loving dork <3)

It’s not often that Hanamaki is able to wake up to the warm aroma of food wafting into the bedroom from the kitchen of their little shared apartment. Actually, he’s almost certain that its never happened before—save for those rare days off from work, Hanamaki usually wakes up alone, closer to lunchtime than breakfast. 

Despite their vastly different schedules, he and Matsukawa have been making it work for the better part of four years (not counting all the mutual pining from their high school days of course). Even if Hanamaki works late nights at the restaurant and Matsukawa slaves through that nine-to-five lifestyle, they manage to always, without a doubt, make time for each other.

But this has never included Hanamaki being woken up to the sound of a beeping rice cooker, nor the sizzle of eggs into an oil-hot pan. 

The bedroom air chills his skin when he throws back the down comforter, Hanamaki immediately seeking out a new form of warmth and grabbing the first thing he can manage. It may be a bit too long in the arms, the hem floating down closer to his bare thighs, but the sweatshirt smells like familiar pine cologne and, more importantly, his _boyfriend_ and Hanamaki can’t think of a better way to start this most _particular_ Sunday morning.

Maybe the food smells and sound of tongs clanging against the stove are Matsukawa’s way of starting the day off for him—considering it’s never happened before, a meal cooked by someone other than himself might possibly be the best surprise he could hope for.

It is his birthday, after all. 

In lieu of pairing anything else with his briefs and pilfered sweatshirt, Hanamaki pads slow and soft into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and thinking, probably too late, that his hair is definitely a bed-head mess. 

This doesn’t stop the pair of welcoming, thick arms that come to trap him in a hug when he steps over the tile threshold however. He’d been mostly awake, but now with Matsukawa’s warmth surrounding him, Hanamaki can’t help feeling a bit drowsy as he burrows into the man’s chest. 

“Good morning, happy birthday,” Matsukawa says into the top of his head before plucking at Hanamaki’s sleeve. “Is this _mine_?”

“I was cold,” Hanamaki answers in honest defense, words a bit muffled until Matsukawa pulls back just enough to stare at him pointedly.

“Put some pants on then,” he suggests with that bland sort of wit that Hanamaki’s come to adore.

Hanamaki pulls his best dramatic face, gasping just enough to quirk Matsukawa’s lips up at the corner. “I never, in all our years together, thought I’d hear _those_ words from you, Issei.”

“You can’t be too cold to be cracking bad jokes like that.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Hanamaki steps back, the tile cool against the bare soles of his feet. He purposefully flexes the muscles in his thighs, twisting a bit for the show of it. “I thought you loved my legs.”

“I do,” Matsukawa hums before sliding up behind Hanamaki and running quick, chilled fingers under the hem of the sweatshirt and palming shamelessly at the plush of Hanamaki’s backside. “But this hoodie’s covering up my most favorite part of all.”

Hanamaki shivers at the touch even as a bout of laughter fizzles up in his lungs and chest. “We’re in the kitchen—how scandalous!” He tries to scurry out of Matsukawa’s reach, but the other man catches hold of his waist before he can get too far.

“You started it,” Matsukawa rumbles, voice pitching lower.

“Hey, it’s my birthday,” Hanamaki mutters out, petulant. He feels suddenly a bit more off-balance; maybe he’s not quite as awake as he’d thought. “That means I get to start and end things if that’s what I want.”

“Whatever you say.” Matsukawa pulls him even closer, slotting their legs together so that Hanamaki can feel the soft fabric of his sleep pants where they ride low on angular hips. “Whatever you _want_ , Hiro.”

Matsukawa leans in to nose at the swell of Hanamaki’s cheek, smoothing his lips out to nibble at his ear, down the edge of his neck. 

“Hm, _whatever_ I want?” Hanamaki murmurs, dazed as he leans to the side. He let’s Matsukawa press kisses all the way down to where the broad sweatshirt collar slides just a bit off his shoulder. Let’s him pull him a little more back towards sleep, towards that warm, dreamy feeling—

“The eggs are going to get cold,” Matsukawa says abruptly. He pulls his lips away, but doesn’t release his grip for which Hanamaki is at least somewhat grateful. “I went to all this trouble.”

“And I appreciate it, really.” Hanamaki blinks his eyes back open to stare earnestly up into Matsukawa’s unreadable expression. He flicks a tongue out to wet his own lips, hopefully not sounding as desperate as that slow pooling heat in his stomach is making him feel. “But right now I kind of think I want a _different_ birthday present.”

“I think—” Matsukawa leans in to place a single chaste kiss against Hanamaki’s mouth. “You’re just afraid of realizing I’m a better cook than you.”

The moment between them pops like a bubble as Matsukawa sets Hanamaki with a firm, roguish smirk. But when Hanamaki starts to squirm in his grasp, annoyed, those strong arms keep them locked together in their embrace.

“Issei,” Hanamaki groans, throwing his head back and eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“What?” Matsukawa says with a soft breath of a laugh. He bends forward to press his nose into Hanamaki’s bared neck. “I’m just teasing—you know you’re the best chef I know.”

Hanamaki bristles, trying but failing to hold back the chuckle in his throat. “The _only_ chef you know,” he practically whines through his endearment. 

“And the only one for me,” Matsukawa says into his skin, mouthing another kiss there before blinking back up to stare at Hanamaki in all seriousness. “Happy birthday, Hiro.”

“Thanks, but I’m still waiting on that _other_ birthday present.”

Matsukawa raises a thick brow, eyes darkening. “Greedy,” he says, expectantly. 

“Actually, more like—” Hanamaki gives him a leer of his own. “ _Hungry_.” 


	2. weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: **weather** //trying new things

It’s funny, Matsukawa thinks, that even after all these years some things never quite seem to change. 

The air around them is chilled but not as cold as it could be for late winter. Slowly spring has been clawing its way up from the depths of the thawing ground, revealing itself in puffs of fresh, warm breezes or the occasional glow of a sun-warm day. 

Today, the sun is hiding amongst thick clouds, but still spring is blowing in steadily along the back of humid fog that settles low over the earth and the deep blue water of Lake Ashi. And even with the sun absent, Matsukawa feels warm enough when he meets that familiar pair of eyes across the shoulders of his bickering friends. 

“I’m sure of this, Hajime,” Oikawa huffs, for perhaps the third time since they’d exited the train station. “Maybe your brain is just getting too _old_ to remember important details like this.” 

“You’re not listening to me, it’s got nothing to do with memory,” Iwaizumi shakes his head firmly. “Hakone wasn’t our first date considering I painstakingly planned it all out when I took you to the planetarium.”

“Planetarium?” Oikawa squints. “No, no, that’s not right at all.”

A fine mist has settled through the trees overhead, the oncoming warning of spring-transition rainfall. A few stutter steps and Hanamaki lets Oikawa and Iwaizumi march on ahead, his shoulder coming to bump with purpose into Matsukawa’s own. 

“Remember _our_ first date?” he hums, almost a purr over the damp quiet of the dark paved trail they walk along. 

“Hm,” Matsukawa makes a show of thinking, thumbing at his chin. “The making out in the clubroom or the _actual_ first date?”

At this Hanamaki brightens even as the clouds darken enough to start pouring incremental pitter-patter drops. “The making out _is_ pretty memorable—” he smirks broadly. “We were really bad at it, if I recall.”

“I seem to recall a sweet love confession that you just had to go and ruin by kissing me.”

“So very tragic—your fumbling words interrupted by a kiss from your _crush_.”

Matsukawa bumps him with his shoulder. “At least I was brave enough to admit it.”

“Hey now, I fessed up just fine—” Hanamaki reaches between them to pinch playfully at Matsukawa’s side. “After a bit more groping.”

A few tepid raindrops splat over Matsukawa’s forehead, their siblings landing against Hanamaki’s nose and cheeks. “Still as mouthy as ever,” Matsukawa replies with no small amount of affection.

They both tug up the hoods of their jackets, Hanamaki sending over a wink from beneath his. “You like it.”

Matsukawa doesn’t miss a beat when he clasps his fingers around Hanamaki’s damp-cold hand. “I do,” he agrees with no need for argument. 

The humid air swims with cedar, pungent and musty as the rain kicks up enough to layer in a soft sound of spray and splash against lake water and soft, moist earth. 

Beside him, Hanamaki lets go of a long breath. “Remember the first time we met?”

Matsukawa nods. “Yeah, I kind of hated you.”

It’s all been said and done before, but Hanamaki balks dramatically just to keep with tradition. “Issei, how could you say that?”

“You hated me too,” comes his reply from between smirking lips. 

“Only a little.” Hanamaki shrugs sending tiny rivulets of water wicking off the arms of his jacket. “I was jealous is all.”

Matsukawa squeezes their palms together tightly. “Jealous of my devilish good looks.”

“More like your deadpan humor.”

“But then we discovered we were both _hilarious assholes.”_ Matsukawa tips his head in Hanamaki’s direction, enjoying the view of the barely there pinkness rising on his cheeks at the conversation. “The love story wrote itself, really.”

Up ahead Oikawa squawks about Iwaizumi keeping him dry, despite the appearance of his infamous Rilakkuma umbrella. They watch with twin expressions of amusement as Iwaizumi steps with the utmost purpose into the nearest accumulating puddle, spattering Oikawa’s shoes. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaims and Matsukawa has to work to hold Hanamaki up when he falls against his broad frame in an uncontainable fit of laughter. 

Once they’ve finally made it far enough up the path the air starts stirring with the sound of gently lapping water, a thick aroma of must and damp earth filling every space between them. Matsukawa turns to meet Hanamaki’s gaze, taking in the genuine affection of his little upturned smile. His shoulders slacken beneath that look, hand swinging out to recapture Hanamaki’s in his own, this time securely twining their fingers together. 

Up ahead Hakone’s Torii of Peace glows a striking red even through the fog, water ebbing and flowing around it’s beams to create the beautiful floating illusion.

“Ramen after practice, then buying up nearly an entire shelf of sweets from the Lawson near your house—ate them sitting on the curb outside your front gate. I remember thinking the whole time about how much I wanted to kiss you, even though we’d done it before. But, that time just felt— _different_. ” Matsukawa lets the words flow slowly between them, warm and reminiscent. “That was our first date.”

Hanamaki turns to him, eyes widening just enough to show the flicker of thick eyelashes, rose gold against Hanamaki’s soft skin. “Seems like just yesterday,” he replies, voice leveled softer than usual, nostalgic.

Through the trees the rain starts to pick up. They’ll have to head back down the trail soon enough to beat the worst of the storm, but for now Matsukawa lets himself lean in and steal a kiss—soft with rainwater and pleasant memories. 


End file.
